The Liar's Dance
by Rabid Turtle
Summary: Two liars stand opposed. The game is set. Updated: In which Varric and Cassandra bicker, Solas warily watches the elf woman, and Lavellan just wants to make it out of the Hinterlands alive. [Solas x f!Lavellan]
1. The Hunt

**The Hunt**

The sun had barely made it over the eastern mountains when I tiptoed out of the hut I had been given for my quarters. The few people awake at this hour did not give me a moment's glance as I walked towards the heavy outer gates of Haven. Apparently I could still pass for "just an elf" this early. Useful to know.

Snow from the last spring storm still blanketed the small valley but I happily shucked the heavy shem footwear near the steps leading to the troop encampment. It was too early to play as the good little savior who wore those cursed leather shoes. How I wished that the Ambassador would stop insisting I kept them on.

I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly, trying in vain to shake the oppressive, half-remembered dreams of the night before. For now, before the day truly began, I was just Niah, the hunter. I was just one of the People who needed to feel the earth under her feet. I wiggled my toes, relishing in the freedom of wearing just the warm fur wrappings that the cold Ferelden weather required.

I entered the woods surrounding Haven slowly, allowing my eyes to adjust to the reduced sunlight. A pair of nugs watched me, their gentle chirps to each other almost comforting. But I was not after those odd little creatures, not when I had seen how large the rams were that grazed in this area. Smart animals with a good sense of smell; a definite challenge was in store for me today. My lips quirked up at the thought of how Tahleen would have loved hunting them during our early morning jaunts.

My smile slowly slid off my face—Tahleen. How long had it been since I had seen my sister's face? Or any of my clan's? Two months now? How long had I been surrounded by a people who had little love for my own? It was an odd thing, realizing how much you depended on your clan for more than just the physical necessities. Creators, I missed them. No one had been intentionally cruel to my face here – yet – but I had heard the term "knife ear" under the breath of some since this whole debacle had started. It was rather lonely, looking across a sea of faces that held little resemblance to my own. Even the few elves that stayed here were standoffish, looking at my vallaslin with distaste or even fear.

I sighed, watching the chilly morning change my breath into a puff of steam. This was what Keeper Istimaethoriel told me to expect, that I would be viewed as a big, scary Dalish boogeyman.

_Perhaps I should just embrace the role, start muttering nonsense to myself and cackling loudly at little children._ _I would be murdered immediately, Andraste or no!_I thought, stifling a laugh from picturing Seeker Cassandra glowering and making disgusted noises at an angry mob of pitchfork-holders.

When I reached an abandoned hut I stopped and slung off the decent bow the smith Harritt had given me. Time to warm up. My shoulder muscles protested as I began my stretches, first interlocking my fingers and then raising my arms above my head with palms facing the sky. In this quiet moment my body could relax in an old rhythm, a morning ritual that had been followed since I could first hold a bow. My best oddball thinking always happened during these moments when my mind was free to wander.

But not today. I couldn't lose sight of the reason I had come to the Conclave, despite all that had happened to me after. I had fought for this chance, had fought the Keeper for so long...I had to endure. Or else how pointless would all my efforts with Istimaethoriel be? Besides, there were no other options. In some way I had been marked by unknown magic the very day the Chantry's Keeper was murdered. My left hand made a fist and energy uncomfortably sizzled just under my skin all the way up to my elbow. How many Dalish would be slaughtered by vengeful zealots if I tried to run now? I was caught and securely tied to this shem Inquisition for an unknowable amount of time.

But there was power in that. I was a necessity here. Such a relationship could be used.

The snort of a grazing animal ahead broke up my bitter thoughts. After checking for defects, I nocked an arrow and melted into the shadows, skirting around the deeper snow drifts whose noisy crunch would alert anything listening for a predator.

A ram stood just under two hundred paces in front of me whose coat gleamed so fiercely in the sun I almost needed to look away; its reds and browns dazzled my eyes. Holding my breath I took aim, crouching upwind from the animal.

_Steady, steady,_Tahleen would have said, _Make it clean._I pulled the bowstring taunt to the corner of my mouth and paused, ready to begin the chase.

A pink nose poked out from beneath the animal's front legs. I blinked. Slowly, a young lamb stretched out from beneath its mother and took a few unsteady steps forward, almost falling over its front feet. With an exacerbated sigh, I lowered my bow.

"The Dalish must all be starving if their hunters are as soft-hearted as you."

"Fenedhis!" I whirled around, annoyed that I could have been caught unaware so easily.

A bald elf stood under the trees, slightly leaning his weight on a staff. A small smile threatened to break free from his lips.

_Great. Smug-face._

"Oh! Solas… "I ran my fingers through my hair, detangling the few strands that had wound themselves across my face. Blasted wind. And hair. "You're correct, of course. Half the reason they sent me away. I was beginning to become a bad influence."

A short laugh that seemed to surprise the both of us escaped from him as he motioned for me to follow, turning in the direction towards Haven. A bit bossy of him, but I obediently tagged along. Hopefully Solas had more to say than the usual 'You are ignorant. It offends me' routine he was fond of.

A strained silence settled in between us. Solas always made me slightly uncomfortable and not because he wasn't Dalish. It was just his intense dislike of my people was so completely off-putting. Remembering his overtly snide remark to me, 'I thought you would be more interested in sharing _your_opinions on elven culture', still made me bristle. Frankly I was surprised he had gone out of his way to interact with me at all this morning. What did he want?

"So, how are you enjoying your stay in Haven? Is it everything you expected?"

I turned to look at him, his mouth offering a small smile but in his blue eyes I saw no warmth, only careful assessment. Ah, so I was to be evaluated. How excellent.

"Everything I expected? I can't say I was particularly _expecting_ to play a part in a squabble over Chantry doctrine, no. However, it has been enjoyable watching Chancellor Roderick and the Seeker glare at each other," I smiled, almost wishing the two would just hurry up and start slapping each other silly like prepubescent girls. I knew how much the dwarf Varric would appreciate THAT scene.

"Ah yes, there is little love lost between those two. It must be entirely fascinating to watch. So I take it you do not believe you are Andraste's chosen prophet come to save us all?"

I snorted, "Hardly. But to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure what I believe. I don't remember anything about what happened at the Conclave. I really wish I did. Knowing would make this shit a lot easier to stomach." I glanced down at my left hand and grimaced. Even while wearing a glove a green glow emanated from the mark.

Solas stopped walking to look at me fully. "Does it bother you? The mark. Does it hurt you?" he cocked his head slightly to the side while furrowing his brow. I hadn't realized how tall he was until then. For an elf at least.

"Not as it did before. Now it mostly feels like my arm has fallen asleep," I paused, watching for his reaction, "Creators, I just realized I never properly thanked you for keeping me alive after I was...found. That must have been difficult for you, being an elven mage surrounded by humans already on edge. Ma serannas, Solas. Truly."

Surprise flickered across his face before he had a chance to hide it. "You are welcome, Lavellan. I am always happy to lend my fade expertise to people who require it."

I grinned. It was probably impossible for him to not mention the fade at least once in a conversation. Solas was correct though, he was by far the most knowledgeable person on the threat the Inquisition now faced. And I would need all the help I could get.

Shaking my head in obvious mock mournfulness, I lightly patted the mage on the shoulder. "Ah Solas, I fear you will live to regret saying that. I intend to learn all there is to know about these rifts. Prepare to be peppered with questions. Unfortunately for you, my sister was the magic-y one. My own education in that area is woefully incomplete."

"A budding scholar, I see." He adjusted the strange jawbone he wore as a necklace to a more comfortable position as we set off towards Haven once more. The sun had completely risen over the mountains and I could hear the smithy already hard at work. "I can understand your interest. Thedas has not seen a threat like this for many centuries."

His hand brushed across the top of an elfroot plant before he knelt to cut it free from its roots in one fluid motion. Solas had an easy assurance about him, embodied in each purposeful movement of his hands. If I hadn't known of Solas' magical abilities I might have mistook him for a seasoned tracker. I could see how the lean muscles of his back stretched under the thin overshirt as he added his find to the backpack he always carried.

Realizing I had been staring, I redirected my gaze towards the bridge the Seeker and I had crossed on our way towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Shielding my eyes I could see small pockets of green pulsating light winding slowly through the trees. Wraiths, no doubt. "The more I know, the better my chances are at surviving this. Well, at least surviving the demons. I don't suppose you're also an expert on Chantry politics? So far I've had better luck with the rifts."

Solas hummed in agreeance. "I would not worry. You are still alive and therefore have already fared better than most elves who cross paths with the Chantry. I am almost certain you will live through this, Andraste's Chosen."

A sense of humor? Solas? Well, shit. I gave him my best withering glare.

"How optimistic of you, Solas. You're such a comfort." On our right I spotted a nug rooting in the snow under some underbrush. "Here, let me catch us some breakfast. You can say some more cheery things while we eat."

"Ah, I am not-"

Turning to face him, I arched an eyebrow "I insist Hahren! Unfortunately my insufferable Dalish pride demands it. Let me redeem myself. I can hunt, I swear. Also, I'm curious to learn more about your theories on the Breach. This is probably the last hour I have to myself today."

Solas hesitated, his features vacillating between annoyance and amusement, but finally nodded. "All right, let us see whether your clan was in the right to cast you out."

_Oh ho, you have no idea._ I smiled and gave a shallow bow, mimicking the way I had seen the Ambassador say goodbye to her guests. With that I turned, intent on the blissfully unaware nug. I could hear Solas start to collect kindling for a fire. Interesting that he didn't rely on his magic for everything. I had heard that mages outside of the Dalish had little use for such mundane knowledge. Perhaps he wouldn't be such a tiresome fellow to travel with after all. And he had let me tease him. That was something.

I glanced up as a bird's shadow crossed in front of me. A raven, presumably for the spymaster with intelligence on the Hinterlands. I made a face._ If there are any more shocking developments this morning my heart might just give out._

Notes: Writing this better be cathartic. Damn you hobo elf! My handle on the Dalish language is laughable so bear with me.

Fenhendis: A common Dalish curse word.

Ma serannas: My thanks (Thank you.).

Hahren: Elder, a term of respect.


	2. First Steps

**First Steps**

"Andraste's Tits, how many rifts are there?!"

I silently agreed with the dwarf's sentiments. This was the third rift we had stumbled on today.

My companions and I were crouched behind a rocky outcrop, looking down at our target below. The tear below us was a large one and it pulsed like a still-beating heart plucked out of a nightmare. Through it the shrieks of spirits stuck in the rift's pull emanated outward from the fade, the keening pain of being transformed into demons nearly unbearable to listen to. Already the rift had spilled out a number of wraiths and terror demons. I shook my head, fury beating at my ribcage. _What a waste._ I could only hope my friends had escaped such a cruel end.

The Dalish woman, Lavellan, turned towards the Seeker who was frowning in concentration. "What do you think? I'm less concerned about the wraiths; Varric and I can pick them off relatively easily. The terror demons though..."

The warrior rested her weight on the rock blocking us from the demons' view and carefully looked down below us. After scanning the area she fell back to our position, face grim. "There are three terror demons in total, two on our left and one directly below us. You, Varric, and Solas should stay up here and pick off the wraiths. I will draw the attention of the terror demons away from you. After you are finished, flank my targets. They should go down soon enough."

The elven woman made a face, "Cassandra, there is no way you are going down there alo-."

"I will go with the Seeker," I calmly interrupted. All three heads turned to look at me, "My barriers will keep both of us safe while the wraiths are put down."

"Done." Our leader nodded. With all her years of military training it seemed the Seeker knew better than to argue with the chain of command. "Alright, everyone ready?"

The dwarf patted his unusual crossbow, "Well, Bianca's certainly excited. Does that count?"

The first round of arrows found their mark, making the wraiths wail in pain. It was an unnerving sound. How many of these demons were once beings that I knew? How many were once my friends?

_Don't think of it now. Grief must come later._

Cassandra was already charging down the steep hill, gaining momentum in order to shield bash the closest terror demon in the hopes of catching the attention of the other two. I sprinted to keep up her, hurling a winter spell at Cassandra's first target. Ice exploded outward. I could hear the rush of arrows over our head, coupled with the victim's cry when the archers found their mark. Back-to-back with Cassandra I laid a barrier around the both of us and surveyed the area for the remaining terror demons.

Seeing none but wraiths, I fell into an old rhythm, flourishing my staff at the end of each complicated spell, completing each movement by beginning one anew. Violent waves of fade energy thrown by wraiths whistled towards us, tainting the air with sulphur. Demons screamed as they were hit by ice and sword, their pain reverberating through my mind. _How many will die due to my actions?_ I felt Cassandra stumble as the terror demon raked her with its claws, rotten flesh hanging off of its nails in tatters with maggots being flung through the air in all directions. I renewed our barriers. _Remember that the healer has the bloodiest hands._ Shards of ice shot away from me to puncture a wraith through its chest. It sobbed in pain, clutching the wound before dissolving._ I must accept.__Accept the blood to make things better._

The ground below the Seeker and I began to sink, tugging at our feet like quicksand. An inhuman howl emitted from beneath us. Something repulsive grabbed my ankles and pulled. I fell on my back, watching as a second terror demon sprang above me from the earth. Its name did not do justice to its nature. A howl, almost too shrill to register, radiated from the demon, jarring all senses. It bent towards me, white worms writhing in between its fangs like some stalking nightmare, its many eyes rolling in their sockets, forever caught in an expression of panic. Muscles frozen, I could only watch in horror as rows of teeth came ever closer to my face. It raised its arm high above its head and the wicked claws gleamed with blood and sunlight. I struggled to raise a barrier to defend myself, to throw the demon back with a wall of ice, knowing full well that it was too late. _My final mistake._

"NO!"

Forcing my eyes to focus I could see the elf woman standing alone on the outcrop, lips pulled back in a feral snarl, her face ablaze with anger. A sharp twang cut through the air as both her arrow and Varric's struck my attacker, knocking it down. My body immediately bolted up, the terror spell no longer active. I shot a burst of magic at the felled demon, freezing it in place. Cassandra then swung her weapon down, a war cry on her lips, and shattered the demon. Its essence flowed back through the fade, releasing a soft sound like a sigh.

They were all gone. The rift murmured to itself, like a sleeping child finally free of its night terrors. The elven woman scrambled closer and her mark flashed with power, tethering her to the rift itself. She pulled, sweat dripping into her eyes, and gritted her teeth in agony. The tension in the air grew oppressive.

_How can any mortal survive this?_ Blood rang in my ears, forcing me to lean heavily on my staff to stay upright. Lavellan dug her heels in the earth and leaned backward, neck cords prominent from the strain of pulling. Unbearable seconds dragged on until finally the rift imploded on itself, leaving only residue fade material behind.

Lavellan fell on all fours and vomited.

Master Tethras, breathing heavily, swung his crossbow over his shoulder and wiped the sweat off his brow. A constellation of blood and dirt was streaked across his cheek. Even the Seeker looked tired. Lavellan limped over to the dwarf and flopped down in the grass on her back with eyes closed, her face pale enough for the dusting of freckles across her nose to be apparent.

She stretched, arching her back while doing so. "Shit." The elf raised her left hand to her face, staring at the mark embedded into her palm and watched as its power warped the space around it. It was obvious that the foci's power was painful for her, even when not in use. The tense way she held her body when she thought no one was looking was evidence enough.

Varric sighed, "I've had my fill of demons today, honestly. This rift makes three, right? That's enough success for one day. What do you think, should we make for the refugee camp?"

Cassandra sheathed her sword, weariness clinging to every line of her face. "I think that is wise. I would hate to be caught by these bandits after dark. Our scouts are correct; they are oddly well-equipped and competent for mere bandits. There is more going on here than we first assumed."

Lavellan groaned. "Of course there is. From the looks of things we will never leave the Hinterlands. Fixing this place is impossible."

The dwarf reached down to help pull the Dalish woman onto her feet. The two already seemed to be building a rapport with each other. "This really is the ass-end of Thedas. Only one tavern for miles and we aren't even important enough to get into Redcliffe. Perhaps we can get the Inquisition to build an alehouse at the crossroads. Lean on them, Loony." Lavellan smiled crookedly at the dwarf's pet name for her.

The warrior scoffed. "How will that solve anything, Varric? Other than catering to your own personal deviant behavior." The woman glared at the grinning dwarf. It seemed that he took a perverse pleasure in irritating her. After a moment the Seeker waved her arms up in disgust and stalked away towards the direction of the camp we had established the day before.

The dwarf called out after her, "You'd be surprised by how many problems can be solved over a drink, Seeker!"

"Or started over one," I quipped.

Lavellan looked at me, a teasing half-smile pulling across her lips. "Ah, our fadewalker speaks!"

"Seriously Chuckles. Can you at least try to be on my side when you break your oaths of silence? What is it with elves and being broody?" A comment said mostly for eliciting the amused reaction of the woman beside me, whose grey eyes twinkled with the pleasure of finding in another her sharp sense of humor.

She sniffed in mock offense, "Unfortunately for you, Varric, I am both broody AND petty. Good luck getting me to share my dinner with you." She turned to adjust her armor, checking for any faults from the last fight, "Alright you two, I'll meet you back at the Crossroads in an hour. We are not eating Inquisition rations when this place is literally teaming with game."

She had to have been fatigued. "Are you sure-"

Glittering eyes turned to face me. "I am fine, Solas. I won't stray far," Lavellan said flatly.

The dwarf and I watched the red-haired woman walk away, each step sure-footed and relaxed. It was good to see that the Dalish had not completely lost the natural gracefulness of my people, although I wondered how much of this was an act to hide her exhaustion.

"Solas..." I turned to look at my dwarven companion, whose face was now bereft of all amusement. _The dwarf wears his mask well in front of her._ "Do you believe we even have a chance at this? Can she close the Breach?"

I clasped his shoulder briefly, "Nothing is inevitable, Child of the Stone. There is always a chance."

He swept his hair back, his brow furrowed. "Well...great. I guess we can only wait and see how this story plays out. If this is all just the Maker winding us up, I hope there's a damn good punch line coming."

* * *

The Inquisition forces had been busy since we had left the Crossroads that morning. Defenses had been set up around the perimeter of the camp and neat rows of tents acting as temporary housing for the less fortunate refugees proudly displayed the Inquisition's emblem. Even the atmosphere had improved with merchants set up to display whatever goods still remained to them. Refugees lined up in front of the hunter's shack, the newly-designated camp kitchen. From the smell, it seemed that they were serving the fresh ram meat we had supplied to them earlier that day.

Seeker Cassandra nodded in approval. "Corporal Vael is a capable young man. We'll have to bring this to the attention of Commander Cullen. Maker knows we'll have need for all the talented individuals we can muster in the days to come."

I glanced at the people we walked by. Although many faces bespoke of malnutrition and sleep deprivation most also reflected hope. It seemed that a full belly and warm blankets had done much for these people. "Indeed. He has exceeded my expectations."

Corporal Vael was speaking with a pair of scouts by the time we reached his headquarters. He gestured for us join him as the scouts left. "Ah, good. I'm glad you are all here. I have news," he blinked, obviously only now aware of Lavellan's absence. "Oh, where is the Herald?"

"She is out hunting," the Seeker's lips thinned in displeasure, "An activity I would have put a stop to had I known about it."

The dwarf snorted, "Tell me Seeker, have you _tried _bossing around Loony yet? Because I think that it would be easier to boss an angry bear back into its den."

"Or to ask a river to flow backwards," I said with as straight of face as I could muster, remembering the disastrous results of the Ambassador's plan to dress the elf woman in more "formal" clothing during her stays to Haven. The kitchen had been a mess for a week.

"Exactly Chuckles, thank you. But seriously Seeker, _have _you tried? Because I definitely want to be around to watch how that goes."

The warrior relented, even if grudgingly, "I admit that the Herald can be little stubborn."

An outcry from across the camp made our party turn. Corporal Vael used his hand to shade his eyes, squinting to see what caused the commotion. He relaxed. "Ah, here she comes." Past the swelling crowds of people jostling each other to get a better look, Lavellan strode toward us, followed by two soldiers carrying the carcass of a dead ram.

The effect of her presence on the religious refugees was predictable; rapture overtook them. The news of her ability to close the rifts must have already spread. Ardent believers fell to their knees, reciting what little pieces of the Andrastrian Chant they knew from memory. A few brave ones reached out to touch her clothing as she passed to beg her for blessings. I looked on in distaste. _Even now in this age nothing has changed._

One look at the elf woman's face assuaged some of my misgivings however. It seemed that I was not alone in being averse to such a display. The more the crowd responded to her, the deeper her scowl became until she was almost running towards us, arms crossed over her chest and displaying a decidedly stormy expression. I bit my cheek to keep from smiling.

She came to a stop in front of us, glowering. "Cassandra, this is ridiculous."

The warrior shrugged. "To the faithful, you are a reminder that the Maker still provides when we need him most. As the Herald of Andraste your presence is inspiring."

"Yes, well, how excellent for them. It's just that is completely uncomfortable actually BEING the reminder," Lavellan sighed and shook her head to clear her frustration. "Ah, Corporal Vael. No, no please don't bow. Right. It's good to see you." She reached out to shake his hand in greeting.

"Good evening, your Worship. I was just about to speak to your party. We've received new information from the latest scout reports and it concerns the bandits in the area," Vael motioned for us to follow him into his tent where a map of the Hinterlands was spread out across a table. "Our forces have had some trouble southwest of here. A couple of patrols have been found slain down to the very last man. Messy, very messy. Scouts were also able to intercept some of the bandit's messages to their own patrols. It appears that they aren't bandits after all; they're mercenaries tasked with keeping people out of this area. We've reason to believe that the mercenary leader uses this villa here as their headquarters." Corporal Vael pointed to where the place was located on the map.

"Hmm," Lavellan placed a thumb over her lips, thinking, "I see. What are they being paid to hide, I wonder? Or perhaps they are guarding something? Regardless, if we can clear them out then the Inquisition's hold on this part of the map will increase tenfold. And we'll have better access to the western road leading out of the Hinterlands. Thoughts?" She looked around at each of us.

Master Tethras shrugged. "I'm no tactical mastermind."

"The villa's defenses could pose a problem to us. But you are correct, it could be useful for the Inquisition to acquire it," Vael leaned over the map, studying the southwestern corner carefully.

Seeker Cassandra glanced at each of us. "I suggest that tomorrow the four of us go to evaluate the situation ourselves. If we can find some way to dispose of the mercenary leader I doubt the rest of his men will be interested in staying long to argue with us."

Lavellan nodded, "Sounds good to me." The elf leaned on the table, yawning. "But now I'm really about to tip over from hunger. Anyone care to join me for dinner?"

* * *

After the sun had set fireflies awoke to dance together through the trees, their silent flight so beautiful to watch that it took a part of you with it. They reminded me a little of the fade, like small puffs of magic so achingly _alive_ you had to be dreaming. I rifled through the pages of the book I had been trying to study by firelight with little success. My mind was too restless. I could not focus.

_How many of my friends will die before this is finished? How many have I already killed with my own two hands?_

Sick-at-heart, I could only watch as the fireflies flitted through the branches, silently calling to their brothers and sisters and fearing neither loneliness nor uncertainty. I closed my eyes, the image of the bright living lights etched in my mind._ Now I must endure._

Paper rustled on my left, the dwarf muttering to himself as he wrote. The soft metallic sounds of Cassandra sharpening her sword, the low hum of Lavellan as she sat near the camp fire. I opened my eyes.

It had been more difficult traveling with these people than I had first imagined it would be. The constant friendly banter between Varric and the elf woman, and even with the Seeker at times, was almost overwhelming and acted as a painful reminder of happier times. It had been years since I had felt such a strong pull of camaraderie from the waking world. But I held myself back, not daring. It was hard to fully participate in their conversations even when coaxed. I had not joined the Inquisition for company. Cultivating any emotional entanglements would be a liability in the days to come.

I glanced over at the Dalish woman. She sat cross-legged and hunched over her project, sewing up a hole in one of her garments. She was completely focused on her task, her dexterous fingers patiently making stitch after stitch. By sitting so close to the camp fire her red hair was more akin to flame than ever. It was a pleasant sight, even with her face marred by the mark of Sylaise.

I looked away. From the start, she had not been what I had expected.

When I had first learned that a Dalish elf had acquired the foci's power, dismay bit at my heels. Yet another mistake. The Dalish were little more than children play-acting stories so diluted from the truth that they did more harm than good. They were a people uninterested in correcting their misguided views and so ready to ostracize. It was infuriating to see how much had been squandered on the undeserving. What subtle artifice could I use on someone who came from such a people?

And yet Lavellan was no child. She teased and challenged with her gleaming eyes and glib tongue but also listened and did not turn away. Indeed, she reveled in acquiring knowledge and each day brought more questions to my door. Her willingness to learn was...refreshing.

But the woman still left me feeling unbalanced, uncertain. And there was still the concern of how she would use the foci's power as she became more attuned with it. It would not always so weaken her as it had today.

Frustrated and realizing I would make no more headway with my studies I stood up to return the tome to my tent. Cassandra looked up from her task and broke the comfortable silence between the four of us. Her voice was almost hesitant. "Niah, I've wanted to ask you something about the Conclave."

The dwarf slammed shut the notebook he had been writing in. "Run Loony! This is the same exact interrogation tactic she used on me. Very polite questioning and then wham! Sword through book. It was quite effective."

"Shut it dwarf." Varric ducked as the Seeker tossed a rock at him. She turned her attention back to Lavellan. "Ignore him," she paused, "I confess that I've been curious about what had brought you to the area before the explosion. I had previously thought that the Dalish avoided humans and their troubles, although I cannot claim to be an expert on their customs."

The sewing stopped as the elf looked up, surprised. "I thought you believed my presence was due to your Maker's divine providence, Cassandra?"

The older woman straightened up in her seat. "Oh I still do. But the Maker uses more than just miracles to fulfill his will. His hand guided you to where you were most needed. I am just interested in how he did so." The fire crackled as Varric fed it two more logs, his attention also directed toward Lavellan. Obviously Cassandra wasn't the only one interested in the elf's answer. I hesitated in returning my book, my own curiosity piqued.

Lavellan looked at her hands thoughtfully a moment before answering. "It's true. On the whole, the Dalish keep to themselves and avoid humans. But now..." She trailed off, trying to find the right words, "My clan's Keeper was...interested in learning about the Conclave's outcome. The fight between mages and templars has spilled over all of Thedas. It's no longer just a human concern. And so I was sent here to act as a spy for my clan." She lifted her left hand, the mark flaring to life and a hint of bitterness injected into her voice, "Things did not go as planned."

The Seeker nodded, satisfied with the elf's response. "No, no they did not."

_Odd._"In all my travels, I have never met a Keeper so interested in outside events."

Lavellan locked eyes with me, wary. "Keeper Istimaethoriel is a visionary. She understands that the Dalish cannot always act as if they are cut off from the outside world."

"How sad that such a viewpoint should be considered radical among the Dalish."

She looked away. "Yes it is."

* * *

"Ready?" she whispered, so close that her lips lightly brushed my ear. I shifted in place.

"I am. It seems that the other two are in position as well."

"All right, fadewalker. _Shem'dal, din hara,"_ She clasped my shoulder, _"Dareth, hahren_." Lavellan skirted to my right, staying low to the ground. A predator in every sense, sharp and hungry. I quickly cast a barrier on her retreating form.

We had easily found the mercenary leader in the forest villa. He was being guarded by a handful of men, both archers and sell swords and there were too many for us to fight them head on. Fortunately the Dalish woman had a surprisingly clever mind for tactics.

From two separate directions the rogues threw open bags of sleeping powder underneath the pavilion outside of the leader's study, catching all mercenaries unawares. The powder began working instantly and soon the men were sleeping soundly.

I strode in, chanting in old Elvhen and feeling my magic whip up the air around me. The room's temperature plummeted. Power surged under my skin as I increased the tempo of the casting, punctuating each verse with a complex sequence of staff techniques. Still colder. Frost formed on my skin as gale force winds struck the sleeping men, bringing snow and ice along with it. A blizzard, far more freezing than anything natural, and only eight meters wide.

Cassandra calmly stepped out from around the stone column she had been hiding behind, ready to attack the first disoriented, frozen enemy who crawled out of the chaos. Varric tossed another bag of sleeping powder into the storm.

"Just in case," he winked.

The first few who made it out did not survive long. A swordsman stumbled forward, ice two inches thick covering his armor. He let out one strangled cry before the Seeker dented in his helmet with her sword. He did not get up. A fellow mercenary fell on top of the body with an arrow lodged through his throat. A dark puddle of blood pooled underneath them. More came and more died by magic, sword, or arrow.

I could feel my mana reserves dwindling and knew that the blizzard could not be sustained any longer. My chanting stopped and the change was immediate. Gone were the howling winds and ice storms. Only odd humanoid shaped ice pillars remained. The men had been completely encased in ice. We had won.

_WHAM._

Pieces of stonework flew on all directions. Lavellan yelped.

_WHAM._

Two reavers, previously unknown to us, flanked Lavellan. She had little room to maneuver away.

_WHAM. _A sharp intake of breath caught in my throat. _No._

Arrows flew from Varric, ineffective at piercing the heavy armor the reavers were encased in. Lavellan dodged, barely avoiding being hit from an arcing swing of a giant maul. I cast a barrier on her, hoping it would hold.

_WHAM. _Damaged flooring splintered through the air. Cassandra charged, knocking into one but hardly deterring him from his course. I flung out sheets of ice, to slow them, stop them, _anything..._

_WHAM._ A broken cry rang out, a body tossed against an ice pillar, shattering it. _No. No no no no..._

"Niah!" With teeth bared, I attacked.

* * *

She looked younger when sleeping.

It was easy to forget how young she truly was. There was such an undercurrent of wariness about her person when she was awake, a trait rarely found in the inexperienced. But in sleep her face was smooth and clear, like a pool of still water. Her eyelids lightly twitched as she moved in her dreams. I smiled, glad that she was at peace.

She could have died. I reached out to tuck her single braid of hair behind her ear. What would have happened to the foci's power if she had fallen? My gamble would have come crashing down, taking Thedas with it.

_When the Dread Wolf stalks, the world should tremble._

As soon as my touch left her face her eyes opened, confused and disoriented. "Niah." I said softly, tasting her name on my lips. _Such an pleasant name to say._ "I am glad to see you awake. We were all worried."

"Ugh, I feel like a herd of druffalo decided to run me over. Repeatedly," her eyes widened as she remembered the last moments at the villa. Niah tried to sit up but stopped as her face twisted in pain. "Shit, well moving fucking hurts. What happened, Solas? The last thing I remember are those two reavers. Not a particularly pleasant memory."

I hummed in agreeance. "Indeed. The healers here say that you have broken a couple of ribs and received a minor concussion. When we are back in Haven, our mage healers can treat you properly. But your condition is stable now." I small smile escaped from me after seeing the impatient expression that was settled on her face. "But as to the news you care about, yes, Cassandra and I were able to take the villa. It was close thing but the Seeker is a fearsome woman when angry. Corporal Vael is diverting some of the Inquisition soldiers there to occupy the hold as we speak."

Concerned grey eyes searched my own. "Just you and Cassandra? What happened to Varric?"

"Varric is recovering as you are. His arm was broken while fighting the reavers. After we return to Haven the mages will help him recover just as quickly as you. Do not worry."

Niah exhaled slowly through her nose. She spoke, her voice as hard as granite, "It's only going to get harder, isn't it Solas? This whole fucking mess with the Breach…" She closed her eyes, looking tired beyond measure.

I forced my hands to lie still, lightly cupping my knees. _The healer has the bloodiest hands._ "Yes, Niah. I believe it will."

* * *

Author's Note: Stupid rogues are always the ones to get knocked out! [Just kidding, I love rogues. Don't hurt me.]

Butchered Elven phrases:

_Shem'dal, din hara_\- Quick kill, no fear (Quickly kill with no fear, i.e. "Good luck!") I obviously made this one up. Sorry?

_Dareth, hahren- _Be safe, respected elder.


End file.
